


Genie (au)

by theAsh0



Series: au vegebul ideas [7]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-15 15:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16936125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/pseuds/theAsh0
Summary: Bulma find a mysterious flask during an excavation. After that, her life goes down hill..





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the pieces I might expand on, but no definite plans yet. Surviving paradise and Demon/Otherworld go first anyway.

 

Bulma stared in horror. “what did you do to him?”

“Only as you asked.” Vegeta the genie leered at her. “He’ll never look at another woman again, will you Yamcha?”

Her boyfriend, her true love, whimpered without blinking, eyes kept straight on her face, then nodded once.

She should have known. She had read the inscriptions on the bottle. Knew the genie was a cursed, evil thing. But after, after reading he whispered to her. Promising he’d give her three wishes. Promising her whatever she wanted. She also knew, also had read of course, that upon her third wish the genie would be free of its curse, of its prison, and would raise havoc on all.

But in a moment of weakness, a moment of jealousy she had made the wish. Only in her head. But he had heard.

“You.. you broke him! Undo this at once. Heal him!”

Vegeta barked a laugh “I cannot undo..” Then trailed of and grinned at her wickedly. “Is that your second wish?”

“You monster!” she snarled, before relenting, “yes, that is my second wish.”

When Vegeta flew off to return with an odd green creature that he claimed was god, and that returned her beloved to the way he was, she promised herself never to wish for anything again.

She kept that promise, although he whispered and promised her the moon every day and every night. Even when a year later, her beloved left her, wary and afraid still of whatever had happened that day. Even when her empire crumbled. Even as she lost it all. She kept her promise, for three long years.

And then one day, in a moment of weakness, she failed.


	2. wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she makes her wish

“I could help you…” he tells her, talks from inside her head. From inside his bottle. Because without a wish, he is not there. She knows this.

“I could stop them…” a fact, when trusts in her deteriorates. When those that work for her start whispering behind her back. When those that loved her start looking at her with only disappointment. She practices in not answering that voice.

“Let me end them…” when they talk of Yamcha, poor Yamcha, and what she’s done to him. How much she has hurt him. How much he fears her now.

“Take your vengeance…” It gets worse every day, his voice louder and louder from his small prison. Whether she carries the bottle with her or leaves it on the fireplace. He’s still there in her head, and they are still there, those disapproving frowns. They follow her, condemning her and filling her with rage.  And sometimes she slips; sometimes she answers and screams ‘no!’. And those days they stare at her, like she’s gone mad.

 

Perhaps it is inevitable that a lady’s fall from grace is hard. Almost like those that saw her high up delight in her decent, jealous of her success and gleeful for the end of it. 

The fame goes first, her good name tarnished. The tabloids delight in printing how she’s gone crazy. How she lost her touch. How she hears voices, cannot tell true from false, reality from fact.

Fortune, is fast to follow. Her stock drops, and the boards take her company. Simply have her declared insane and seize her assets. It is ludicrously easy. All that’s wrong with her is him, but she is judged infirm, and they even try to seize her.

This is the part that hurts her most. Her friends, her colleagues, they drop her like lead. Like dead weight holding them down. When she tries for reason, begs for understanding, her dear one is cited once again. Her poor Yamcha, and how she showed him no leniency either. At that point it is hard to argue.

She runs. Leaves her home, all she has known. Hides in a different town. In a dark alley, her new residence a cardboard box with a dirty blanket.

 

Do genies get lonely too? Do their feelings get hurt when they are not listened to? When their words are ignored? Try as she might, he gets harder to block out. Though she tries.

He scream at her, in the dark when she tries to sleep. 

Whisper to her, when she rummages through leavings to find enough to eat.

Demans, angrily, when she is forced to leave a warm spot on a park bench in the middle of the night. By some cop, some cop she should apparently ask to be skinned and then kept alive as an example...

But he never begs. Leaves her, turns from her with loathing and quiets, when she sits at the side of the street with her hand out. 

 

He tells her he’s been imprisoned a thousand years. And that one day he was a warlord, feared across the stars.

He tells her no fool has kept him past the second wish yet. That if she is too weak to see it through, she might as well dispose of the bottle. Someone more willing would come along, eventually.

He tells her he would leave her alone anyway, and go out in space to punish those that bound him first. So she would be safe, at least for a dozen years if not longer. Space is a big place, the gods that have wronged him are many, and he’s sworn to take them down first. So why not take that chance? Why not be selfish? It’s not like any of them showed her mercy.

And when she asks, he tells her the Rules to the wish. “You cannot lie to me, right?”

-“Feh, it says so on the bottle does it not?”

 

She’s made her decision, and she can feel the intake of his breath when he realises. Like he’s resting inside her soul by now. An evil blemish, something she should be glad to cut out. And yet, she’s grown attached to it. To him. He’s the reason they have left her, that she has lost everything. And yet, with this, will she lose the last thing she has. “You can make your wish as long and as complicated as you like, as long as it is one thing.”

 

“So I could wish for a decked out warhorse, but not for a horse and a saddle?” He affirms as much. Doesn’t sound sad at all, only excited at the prospect. At the mere possibility of getting free of his prison. Free of her.

 

And so she makes her wish, one single tear rolling down her cheek. Whether it is for her broken promise, for the ones she will be condemning, or for him; for losing him too, she does not know. But she takes a last deep breath and says it anyway:

”I wish for the man of my dreams, for the one to make me happy till the end of my days,

I wish for my other half, my knight in shining armor, my prince.”

 

And he laughs. 


End file.
